


Natural Born Griller

by orphan_account



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glee RPF
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-16
Updated: 2010-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-12 17:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris fails at cooking--spectacularly. Adam fails at being angry with him--spectacularly. They both fail at keeping the bed clean--yeah, spectacularly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural Born Griller

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sucia_Bonita](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sucia_Bonita).



> I apologize to the EPA for the wanton water wastage portrayed herein; to my Twitter feed for the neuroses and distraught capslock I subjected it to in the writing of this; and to Sarah, who graciously took up the responsibility of betaing this motherfucker. Also it is dedicated to the other Sarah (Sucia_Bonita), who wanted this as much as I did, so of course I had to write it for her <3\. Cheers! Feedback is, of course, loved and hoped for!

When he walked into his house that evening after a grueling day of recording (and a truly epic screaming match with his new representative from RCA), Adam did not expect to be greeted with the acrid smell of burning and the piercing wail of the smoke detector. Exasperated dread growing in his stomach, he reluctantly walked over to the kitchen entrance and peeked inside. Smoke billowed out and Adam coughed, waving it away.

Chris whipped around, and if anyone had ever actually looked like a deer caught in the headlights, Chris did at that moment. Adam was half convinced he was going to run. "Um. Adam! You're...early. Dinner might be a little late," he joked weakly. Adam was too tired to muster enough irritation for even a proper glare, but Chris looked plenty distraught with Adam's blank expression.

"I'm _really_ sorry Adam. Mom gave me this recipe and I wanted to try it because you've been subsisting on, like, greasy Chinese and hummus since you've been working on your album, and yeah I totally suck at cooking related things, but the recipe looked simple enough, except I think NASA has the patent on your stove and I couldn't figure it out and I burned _everything_."

While Adam was distantly marveling over the sheer number of words Chris could fit in one breath, Chris continued, probably afraid if he stopped talking for more than a second Adam would start yelling or something. "I even burned the _water_ ," he said, staring at the pan he was holding in abject betrayal. Adam could see a smoking brown spot in the bottom and winced. That particular set of pans had been a gift from one of the celebrity chef shows he'd guest starred on. "I don't even know how that _happened_. I'm really _really_ sorry."

For a moment, Adam didn't know whether he should yell, cry, or just ignore everything and go to his room and sleep for a few days...but Chris was just standing there, tense, braced to take whatever Adam had to say. There were smudges of something white, probably flour, on his cheek and forehead, he was holding a wooden spoon that was still dripping all over Adam's stupidly expensive tile in one hand, the ruined pan in the other, and his apron said "Natural Born Griller." Adam--exhausted, sulky, and doubtful he'd ever get the smell of burnt whatever out of his clothes--was helplessly, _ludicrously_ charmed.

"Sweetheart," he managed finally, around the inexplicable lump in his throat, "I have a chef on _retainer_."

"I know I just--nevermind." Chris turned around and began gathering up the dishes and dumping them in the sink. "It was a dumb idea, I'm sorry," he repeated, opening the dishwasher and stacking the pans inside expertly, so the water would reach every one.

"You just what?" Adam asked warily, moving in to help. They were both worthless cooks but had blessedly had moms growing up who'd insisted they help in the kitchen or they'd have long since perished from mold or food poisoning or something equally disgusting.

"I just wanted to do something nice!" Chris said immediately, as if he'd been waiting for Adam to ask. " _Glee_ finished taping, but now you're incredibly busy and I just wanted a nice evening with us and no one else," he finished, staring moodily at the pot he was attempting to scrub the charred remains from. Adam came up behind him and reached into the dish-water to stop the furious motion of his hands.

"It needs to soak," he said gently, then dropped a kiss behind Chris's ear and enjoyed the resulting shiver. "Come on," he said, pulling Chris away from the sink, out of the kitchen, up the stairs.

"The mess--" Chris protested.

"There's this thing about messes--they tend to keep," Adam said dryly, winning a tentative smile.

"Where are we going?"

"To bed," Adam tried to inject as much 'duh' into the words as possible.

"Are you kidding me?" And okay, Adam was a little bit offended at the amount of incredulity Chris said that with. "Listen, maybe you don't care that your kitchen should be declared a disaster area, but if I ruin your some-stupid-number-of-thread-count sheets you will murder me and no one will ever find my body because you'll probably feed it to goats or something! I like my head on my body, thanks," Chris said, but totally failed at yanking his arm away.

Adam had stopped outside his bedroom and listened patiently. "Are you finished?" he asked, affecting boredom.

"Yes."

"Good." Adam opened the door and yanked Chris in and over to the master bath. "You're a dirty little boy, Christopher," he said with a pronounced leer, and shoved him into the shower.

"You are so lame," Chris laughed. "Is it even possible to make that line sexy in real life?"

"No idea," Adam admitted; he didn't care either, because Chris happy (or angry, or wanting, or spread out on Adam's bed with nothing on but one of Adam's button-up shirts--unbuttoned) was the sexiest thing Adam had ever seen. They were both smiling when Adam finally leaned in and kissed him, soft but with that ever-present undercurrent of heat and toe-curling lust. Chris hadn't been a virgin when they met, but he hadn't been this greedy little sex kitten either, and Adam would be lying if he said he hadn't been flattered that first time when Chris had seemed startled by the force of his orgasm.

They parted and Adam's grin turned softer, indulgent when Chris suddenly collapsed into giggles. Adam might have taught Chris how to make sex good, but Chris had taught Adam how to make sex fun, and that was something infinitely more precious and difficult to manage.

At the moment, however, Adam was hard, Chris was filthy, and they both smelled like a barbecue pit, so he did the good boyfriendly thing and reached over and turned on the water. Chris yelped at the cold, but Adam had paid good money for a fantastic water heater and the water turned pleasantly hot almost instantly.

"Um, Adam," Chris said, "While the idea of you peeling me out of wet clothes, and vice versa, is very hot, I think this is one of those occasions when the theory is greater than the practical application of said theory."

"Hmm, we'll see." Chris's head was already thoroughly drenched and Adam followed the paths of water down the side of his face with his tongue. Chris tilted his head back accommodatingly when Adam reached his throat, and Adam took advantage of his preoccupation to untie the apron and fling it over the shower wall. That gone, he shoved his thigh between Chris's and rubbed against his groin hard, twice. Chris cried out and his legs buckled, as his hands came up to grasp Adam's shoulders for balance.

"Jesus," he breathed.

"Are you ready to try something new, sweetheart?" Adam pitched his voice as low and throaty as he could make it, and Chris's resulting full-body shudder clearly said "Yes please," even before the words passed his lips.

Adam sank down to his knees, ignoring the way his jeans were beginning to chafe and the twinge in his knees. Just because he was on the far side of 30 didn't mean he had to _act_ like it. He popped the button on Chris's pants and pulled the zipper down with his teeth, a total porn-star move he'd learned from Brad--and it worked, just like it had always worked on him. He heard Chris's breathing speed up and when Adam looked up through his eyelashes, he could see the flush in his face going all the way down to his perfect pink nipples. "I really love you," Chris said fervently, and Adam hid a grin in the kiss he planted on his bellybutton.

The pants were a bit trickier and Adam did, in fact, have to peel them off. He entertained a moment of alarm when he realized that he hadn't taken Chris's shoes off yet, but he needn't have worried. Chris was barefoot, and the thought of him rushing around the kitchen barefoot made Adam want to interrupt the proceedings to scold him on the dangers of slick tile. He manfully resisted and decided that conversation could wait until Adam was 40 and might actually be someone's parent.

Chris's pants came off and landed in a sopping pile in the corner of the shower. Chris was leaning against the tile now, nearly boneless, eyes heavy lidded as he waited to see what Adam would do next. "In a minute I'm going to turn you around," he said, just loud enough that he thought Chris could hear him over the water. "After I get these adorable boxer-briefs off. Then I'm going to take you apart with nothing but my tongue."

Adam pulled the underwear down and immediately took Chris's cock in his mouth, all the way down, and didn't even mind when Chris's fingers tangled and caught in his sticky hair. He pulled off with a pop, batted Chris's hands away and spun him around. Adam didn't hesitate, just licked a long line from the small of Chris's back down to his balls. Chris was shivering continuously now. He traced the same path he'd taken with his tongue with his finger and dipped it, just slightly, into Chris, who gasped. "Fuck, Adam," he said faintly.

"Shh. Trust me, you're going to love this," Adam said, knowing in his bones it was true. Surprisingly for such a white bread sort of good boy, Chris never shied away from getting messy. The first time he'd sucked Adam off, Adam's cock had tried valiantly to come again when Chris had sucked down his come like a professional hustler and licked what was left on his lips with his dainty pink tongue.

Adam pushed away the memory for later, but the damage was done. He was so hard, and the wet denim was restricting him painfully. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans to relieve the pressure a bit, then turned his attention back to Chris's lovely ass. His mouth was _watering_. Spreading the cheeks with his thumbs, Adam darted his tongue around the tiny hole, testing. Chris's hands were scrabbling on the tile seeking something to hold onto, and his muscles were bunched tight in anticipation. "Relax," Adam soothed. "Breathe,"

"You are _such_ a t-t-tease, _oh_ ," he yelped when Adam stabbed his tongue inward suddenly. "Oh," he breathed again, quietly, and finally relaxed, his muscles going liquid. Adam shifted his grip, and did it again and again, licking around the hole, licking in it, letting the water and spit run down until Chris was open and wet. He tasted like Chris, down here, but _more_ Chris, like after a day of hard dancing in the summer, when Adam would push him against the door as soon as he came in and lick the sweat from his body. He bit, softly, at the wrinkled skin and Chris went up on his tiptoes, moaning, then shoved back. Adam went lazy, fucking into him with short little sweeping jabs, until Chris was shaking around him and making these little sobbing noises between babbles. "God, Adam I can't--" he panted, and Adam slid one finger in beside his tongue and Chris _keened_. Adam pulled back and watched, fascinated as the pretty red opening spasmed around his finger. "You're so pretty down here, Chris," Adam said, hushed, not even entirely sure Chris could hear him. "You want me, don't you? You want my cock to fill you up right here where my tongue was. You want it so bad you can't stand it, don't you?" He punctuated the question with another lick, another gentle bite. "You love it when I fuck you. I'm going to fuck you Chris. The only question is how do you want it? Do you want it hard and fast? Or do you want it so slow you're crying before I let you come?"

Adam was so focused on his own dirty talk it took him a moment to become aware Chris's babbling had been answering him all along; the steady chant of "Yes yes yes" had become "Anything Adam, God, just anything, I _can't_ ," building up to a wail as Adam finally bore down on his prostate.

"Fuck," Adam pulled his fingers out and stood. He ignored Chris's whimper of protest for the moment, though he knew how he felt. He was reckless with want, didn't think he could manage a slow fuck right now if his life depended on it. He turned off the water with one hand and used the faucet to pull himself up. He dragged Chris out of the shower and bathroom bodily and all but threw him on the bed. He couldn't even think about the trauma that would result from trying to take off his pants right now, so he just tugged them down his hips enough to release his cock. He snatched the lube and a condom from his nightstand and gritted his teeth as he rolled it on. The coldness of the lube didn't even register in his state.

Chris sucked in a breath to say something but Adam kissed the words out of his mouth tongue going deep and filthy, and urged him over onto his stomach. Dazed, Chris went with it, let Adam arrange him on hands and knees. Adam covered him and briefly wished he could feel Chris's skin against his chest, before he guided his cock into him and then it was all heat and pressure and Adam had to bite his lip so he wouldn't rush it and hurt Chris.

"God you feel so good," Adam moaned when he was seated. Now that he was inside, some of the urgency had dissipated. He rested his forehead on Chris's neck, the wispy hairs there a soft tickle.

"L-likewise," Chris panted. "Now could you _please_ move?"

Adam huffed, wondering fleetingly, again, at how laughing seemed so perfectly natural in this situation when he needed to come like he needed to breathe. "Always so polite," he murmured, and pressed an open mouthed kiss at the top of his spine.

"How about 'fuck me Adam, before I walk out of here'?"

"Just try it," Adam snorted, but he moved, pulled back and thrust back in, cutting off whatever Chris was going to say next. He set a punishing rhythm; hard, fast, and deep. The room was silent except for the squelch of Adam's clothes and their pants. Adam shifted his balance and spread their legs wider so that Chris was splayed over his knees, Adam's body the only thing keeping him in position. He finally found that perfect angle, Chris twitching and whining with every pass Adam's cock made over his prostate.

"Adam!" Chris groaned, "I can't--I have to--" Adam knew at once, what he meant; he couldn't move his hands or he'd go sprawling. Adam shifted again and tangled the fingers of their right hands together, bringing them up to jerk Chris off. Three, four times and Chris was coming, body seizing and ass clenching tight around Adam. Adam growled, snapped his hips back and forward twice and held there, the orgasm draining every last ounce of energy and coherent thought from his body. He collapsed, and Chris's already tenuous balance collapse with him and they went sprawling.

"You're crushing me!" Chris gasped. Adam bit his shoulder, petulantly hard, but rolled off, obediently. He dropped the condom into the trashcan beside the bed and heaved over onto his stomach.

"Adam, not that I don't understand," Chris said drowsily, not seeming to mind he was lying square in the wet spot, "I think you actually blew my mind, which is unfortunate and kind of cool, but you're still dressed in wet clothes."

Adam conceded he probably shouldn't sleep in wet clothes. He struggled up and, while he was vertical, decided he'd might as well get them towels. He heard Chris's content sigh as he wandered out and smiled.

Later, after the bed was stripped ("You're the one who wanted to have sex with his wet clothes on!") and remade, and they were cuddled sleepily together Adam whispered, hushed, "You still have to clean the kitchen tomorrow."

Chris's slap didn't even sting. Much.


End file.
